


a broken chance in the breaking light

by robotchangeling



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, sometimes you hook up with your ex and then never see each other again and it's fine. it's fine, there are days and then there are holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 07:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15881016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotchangeling/pseuds/robotchangeling
Summary: A holiday in the midst of war. Samot visits, once, with things to say.





	a broken chance in the breaking light

**Author's Note:**

> > all I ask is this bitter peace  
> is that enough for me?  
> and what we lost it was mine and yours  
> is that the best we’re for?  
> is there no love in war?
> 
> koethe, [no love in war](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiWID350Gps)

Samot adjusts the cuff of his sleeve absently. He was hasty in coming here, he knows. Oh, but with the discovery his disciples relayed, what else was there to do? Plans uncovered—a tomb, of all things—estranged though they are, it's troubling to hear. Only one of many troubling things, true, but— 

The clearing of a throat interrupts his introspection. Samot sighs and looks up to acknowledge the two soldiers with weapons angled towards him. The one on the right takes a step back under his gaze, but the other stands resolute in her Sun Day finery, though she flinches under scrutiny. “You know who I am?” He questions.

The soldier looks him over and nods curtly. 

“Then you should know that this is pointless,” Samot says. “Your weapons cannot harm me.” He reaches out and pushes the blade aside lightly with gloved fingertips. “But I’ll allow it. For now.” 

 

* * *

 

“My lord, you should know—that is, there’s a problem— ” The soldier calls out nervously to Samothes as he approaches. 

It has been a long day in a series of long days. “What is it you need?” Samothes asks.

“I, uh,” the soldier coughs. “I’m not sure, my lord. They just found him here; we don’t know how he got in—”

_ Who _ , Samothes nearly asks, but the soldier seems uncertain, and he senses—

He opens the door.

Samothes can see the moment when Samot knows—acknowledges, rather—that he’s arrived, in a careful raising of the chin and squaring of the shoulders. He turns, elegantly, the performance only faltering for a brief moment as they meet eyes. 

“Nothing has changed,” Samot begins directly. “But…well. It’s a holiday, after all.” He glances at the soldiers, still shaken but awaiting their Lord’s instruction. “I thought we could. Talk.”

 

* * *

 

They settle into an alcove in Samot’s chambers, books and familiar comforts on all sides. Samot drums his fingers lightly on the table before he breaks the silence. “I hear the festivities went well. They’ve been better, of course, but considering—”

Samothes sighs. “Why are you here, Samot?”

“Is wanting to see you not enough?” 

“Apparently not.” 

Samot inclines his head to concede the point, fair enough after these past years. “I admit the news I hear concerns me. The reconfiguration, the automatons…” He hesitates. “They say these days the King-God of Marielda rules with an iron fist, that his subjects fear him more than they love him.”

Samothes almost laughs in disbelief. “We’re at war and you come to tell me what I’m doing wrong? You gave up that privilege decades ago.”

Hands pressed flat to the table’s surface. “I was going to ask how you’re doing.” Samot says softly.

Samothes pauses. “How am I—how could I possibly be doing?”

Samot stares for a long moment as if about to speak, but he stays silent. Instead he rises and walks to the bookshelves along the wall, running a finger over the spines. “If you’re going to be uncooperative, perhaps I should just go. I don’t know why I expected otherwise.” He pulls a volume from the shelf, and then another. “Hmm. I’ll take these, at least.”

He turns back to where Samothes now stands watching and gestures with the books in his hand. “I can find my way out, if you haven’t rearranged the exit too much.” Samot says, stopping as he moves to pass Samothes. “Take care.”  _ Please _ . He moves for a moment as if to kiss Samothes on the cheek, but instead there is just a lingering, a hand soft on an arm, and a final glance before he heads for the door. 

Samothes turns after him. He lays a hand absently on his forearm, the spot that Samot’s fingers touched a moment ago. Before he can think better of it, he calls out. “Samot, wait—” Samothes takes a step forward as Samot turns from the doorway. “It  _ is _ a holiday.” His voice softens. “And it is good to see you, even under the circumstances.”

Another step. “Stay, if you like,” he offers. “Just for a bit longer.”

He moves forward, again, just as Samot does—until they’re closer, perhaps, than either thought to allow himself. So carefully, Samothes reaches a hand towards Samot’s face but hesitates a few inches away. “May I?”

There is a beat of silence, Samot’s gaze heavy on Samothes’ face. “Please,” Samot murmurs. 

Samothes tucks Samot’s hair behind his ear, holds a gentle hand to his cheek. Samot closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Gradually they come even closer, until their foreheads bump together, until they can feel each other’s breath. And then—

It’s a pattern forged over millennia, and one so easy to fall back into. The kiss is cautious and fumbling, bodies familiar but boundaries not quite clear. They break with breaths uneven, with Samot’s fingers curled around the back of Samothes’ neck.

“I miss you,” Samothes finds himself saying, almost involuntarily. Says it like breathing.  _ I miss you I miss you I- _

“Don’t,” Samot replies. He opens his eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t choose this. If it won't change anything, then just—” For a moment Samothes thinks he’ll leave, but Samot only kisses him again.

 

* * *

 

There’s a false casualness in the way their bodies touch, ex-lovers playing at intimacy. Samot can’t stand it after a while, and so he brushes aside Samothes’ hands and rises. He dresses slowly, more minutes passing in silence before he speaks. “You know this isn't permanent?”

Samothes rubs his eyes. “I am incredibly aware of that.”

Samot glances back in admonishment. “Don't be like that. You know what I mean.” He runs out of buttons to fasten and focuses his eyes on the floor instead. “It doesn't have to be like this forever. That’s the whole  _ point _ .” He pauses, feels Samothes’ eyes on his back. “I’ll still be here, when this is over. When we’ve solved it. I know, I know you don’t think—but consider it.”

Samothes doesn’t reply. Samot finishes smoothing his hair and wraps his cloak back around his shoulders. He passes by his books, forgotten on the table. “I’ll see you on the battlefield,” he says as he nears the doorway, and he doesn't look back.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [these](https://twitter.com/austin_walker/status/939343636281556992) austin underscore tweets...
> 
> find me on twitter @robotchangeling. spring's light comes soon etc.


End file.
